"Excellent. Come, let us see what we can learn of these monster hunters," said Augustin.

The two Ebonguards made their way to the assorted group, one of the Venatori was speaking, "Of course chronicling is much nobler work, I mean where would we be if no one remembered the past? In a hundred years from now, all this is going to matter."

Cicero nodded in agreement with the younger Venatori, as he sat down to eat and drink. The other Venator was older and no doubt the master and teacher of the younger Venator. The female Templar did not seem fit for combat as she wasn't wearing a suit of armor, Cicero wondered why she was here. The other Templar had a scarred face, like Augustin, and Cicero figured it was a mark of service.

The Ebonguard had finished eating and drinking as he scanned the individuals.

Omnius mille passus expeditio, omnis fossa bellum.

"The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war."

((*Sigh*... This is exactly how two Venatori would probably interact. The elder just rants and makes the younger look like a fool. ))

"That's because it is impossible," Hadrian stated sternly. "And vampires don't exactly form militias. You could learn a little something from her, Grey, as you've clearly neglected some teachings from the Venatori."

Grey broke into a faux-laugh and then took a straight face. "I was exaggerating. You should know quite well I've done the opposite." He gave him a glance and went back to his food, mumbling and grumbling to himself. "Neglected?" He spoke under his breath. It seemed his new partner went out of his way to correct and annoy him, in most cases, he would be thankful. But Grey wasn't a child anymore, and was trying to bring back respect to the Venator name.

When the scribe spoke of demons and monster. At this Hadrian burst out laughing.

"Hardly. Any man who would know half of all the monsters in the world would be reduced to a gibbering madman. The hellions that already stalk this world are innumerable. You have your tomes and your faith to inform you of the ways of the Underworld. The little we learn is hard-earned through blood and sacrifice."

Grey looked over at the chronicler. "What he's saying is that we don't usually have a scribe during a assignment. A lot of the Venatori training is on the hunt, although some stories and techniques are saved for the library at Castle Greywatch." He attempted to level the ground between the others. He didn't want Hadrian to cloud the Venator name by boasting.

He realized that a few more individuals had come over and begun listening to him. Grey looked behind the Templars and spoke to the newcomers. "Can I help either of you?"

"That's because it is impossible," Hadrian stated sternly. "And vampires don't exactly form militias. You could learn a little something from her, Grey, as you've clearly neglected some teachings from the Venatori."

Irena Cathas shifted a little, but didn’t interrupt.

Grey held a hand over his mouth and spoke with his mouth full. "I was exaggerating." He swallowed and continued. "Vampires, Beastfolk, Werewolves. Doesn't matter which one he has. What matters is if he has monster on his side. It's like my father would tell me." Grey puffed out his chest and sat straight. "Grey, the Empire is a wild and strange place, just because no one has seen it, doesn't mean it can't happen." He said in a fake-deep voice, impersonating his father. "You would laugh if you knew him." Grey shrugged.

Irena looked a tad uncomfortable, mostly with the two Venatori showing such a divide between them. She knew they were renowned for being a rag-tag bunch at best, but… she didn’t think an apprentice and his master would be so hostile to each other. Especially not in public. Still, she went on to explain her role, meeker than she otherwise meant to as a result. Still, she got a reply from every man present as a result.

Hadrian burst out laughing, of all things. "Hardly. Any man who would know half of all the monsters in the world would be reduced to a gibbering madman. The hellions that already stalk this world are innumerable. You have your tomes and your faith to inform you of the ways of the Underworld. The little we learn is hard-earned through blood and sacrifice."

Cathas looked uncomfortable. “To a degree, we do, too…” She replied, quietly. “Astra has not seen fit to tell us everything there is to know of the demon and their ways…”

"What he's saying is that we don't usually have a scribe during a assignment. A lot of the Venatori training is on the hunt, although some stories and techniques are saved for the library at Castle Greywatch." Grey cut in, causing Irena to quickly fall silent, again. She offered a little nod.

"Indeed," the scarred Templar commented as he stroked his scars, "in all my years as a Templar, I've only encountered one Demon. It didn't end well, as you can see plainly on my face."

Cathas’s eyes widened a little as she realized what could’ve made that scar. Personally, she’d never seen a Templar take such damage, and she could only wonder at how good this one was as a result… or had he taken it on alone? That would’ve been a battle worth seeing, not to mention the honor of recording.

Grey looked back at her, intrigued. "A scribe? Interesting, I have quite a hobby of doing charcoal-sketches of my travels, people, or events." He offered. "None of them are that good though. It isn't like your position though, where you're here to record and provide knowledge, mine are just for entertainment." Grey finished. "Of course chronicling is much nobler work, I mean where would we be if no one remembered the past? In a hundred years from now, all this is going to matter."

Irena meekly shrugged. “I… don’t know about all of it.” She admitted. However, before she could go any further, a couple of Inquisitors came over, prompting the younger Venator to switch his attention. At that, the monk meekly bowed her head slightly, before her stomach growled suddenly. “Oh, I guess I forgot how hungry I was…” She mumbled to herself, flagging down the barkeep humbly and quietly requesting a simple meal, revealing a rather fat purse as she paid the innkeeper.

Just because she didn’t spend her salary, didn’t mean the Templars didn’t keep her handsomely paid. Such resources could be valuable on hunts like these.

"No, go ahead. Though it looks like all the other half-giants are in that corner." The Inquisitor quipped, looking over to the other larger members of the party. Gauvain supposed it was quite the coincidence that three man-mountains were in the same company.

“Ah, yes,” he observed. He didn’t really know what else to say. His mind was more focused on his food at the moment.

He took a large bite from his meal as the Inquisitor- or Yaroslava, as she was truly called- talked about her pet. While Gauvain never had a dog himself, he could understand the appeal. They were loyal companions and good friends. The day a dog betrayed his master, the world would end.

"Maybe adorable companions should become standard issue for Inquisitors. I'll see if we can't have the Templars do the same.” The other Templar interjected, before seemingly forgetting herself. “Oh! Where are my manners?" she suddenly exclaimed. "I'm Lady Tamaria. I don't believe we've been introduced before?"

She was right. He’d never seen her before they set out and still didn’t know much about her.

“No, I don’t think we have,” he replied between mouthfuls of food. All that riding had left him with a large appetite. “Gauvain Frigidian, at your service.”

Grey was almost happy that the scribe left. He'd always had a bad experience when trying to respect other groups and their beliefs, which usually lead to being quite naive and trying to stay neutral. And people ask why we don't like to take help from those outside the order... As soon as she left, the Ebonguard stepped up. "Can I help either of you?"

"Not really, just trying to meet those we'll be working alongside with. The name is Cicero Silius, an Ebonguard of the Inquisition," answered Cicero as he stuck out his hand.

Grey looked at the Ebonguard's hand for a short moment, before shaking it firmly. "Grey Blackwell, Venator." He replied, keeping it simple.

Augustin watched silently as the conversation flowed. He noticed a distinct divide between the younger and older Venatori, something he noted to himself. He had heard the group was far less organized than the other orders, but seeing these two spoke volumes. The Inquisitor eyes wandered and alighted on the scar of the Templar.

“Can I help either of you?”

The question brought Augustin back from his musings. The scar on the Templar’s face had become a small fascination as it look like something out of a legend. It was not the sort of blow most men survived to sport such a reminder. He quickly glanced at his companion, Cicero, noting he had just finished his meal. However, before Augustin could talk, Cicero spoke up.

“Not really, just trying to meet those we'll be working alongside with. The name is Cicero Silius, an Ebonguard of the Inquisition,”

“Grey Blackwell, Venator.” The reply was short and simple. Augustin raised an eyebrow slightly. He had the slightest feeling he was beginning to understand why Daniel had spoken of the Venatori the way he did.

“I am Augustin Caesar,” he added. “It is a pleasure to meet some members of the Venatori.” He held out his hand.

“I have never had the pleasure of actually meeting any Venatori,” Augustin continued. “My work in the North never gave me a chance. I was not aware that this hunt would be of interest to monster hunters.”

((No no no, not at all. Hadrian's just a curmudgeon and Grey hasn't earned his stripes in his eyes. ))

Grey held a hand over his mouth and spoke with his mouth full. "I was exaggerating." He swallowed and continued."Vampires, Beastfolk, Werewolves. Doesn't matter which one he has. What matters is if he has monster on his side. It's like my father would tell me." Grey puffed out his chest and sat straight. "Grey, the Empire is a wild and strange place, just because no one has seen it, doesn't mean it can't happen." He said in a fake-deep voice, impersonating his father. "You would laugh if you knew him." Grey shrugged.

The Templar Monk looked very uncomfortable, and Hadrian just drank more. How many hunts had this greenhorn even been on? Holt had joined his mission to earn the Venatori some respect and notice among the Templar and Inquisitors, not to inadvertently train some rookie. He found himself sorely missing his own partner.

After that, the younger Venator tried to redirect the conversation to more pleasant small talk before he got distracted by some other onlookers and he struck up a chat with them. At that, the monk meekly bowed her head slightly, before her stomach growled suddenly. “Oh, I guess I forgot how hungry I was…” She mumbled to herself, flagging down the barkeep humbly and quietly requesting a simple meal, revealing a rather fat purse as she paid the innkeeper.

Hadrian's eyes widened slightly at the small bag filled with glittering gold. "I never realized humble monks were paid so handsomely." He commented. Hadrian sighed, rubbing his temple and leaning on the bar. "I apologize. It's been a long day."

The Venator paused and let himself breath and recompose for a moment before he resumed eating his meal. He started talking to the Templar again, his tone much more cordial now.

"I don't believe I caught your name. I'm Venator Holt. Hadrian Holt. And tell me," he added. "You seem like a sharp young woman, you could have easily been a scholar or an esteemed monk anywhere. Why join the Knights Templar?"

--------------

“No, I don’t think we have,” The Giant Templar replied between mouthfuls of food. Mina supposed the long day of riding had left him with a large appetite. “Gauvain Frigidian, at your service.”

The knight showed no signs of pausing as he shoveled down food, so Mina awkwardly withdrew her hand, clearly seeming slightly off-put. Not sure of what else to say to the large man, Lady Tamaria turned her attention to the other nearby Inquisitor, and the cat that had materialized by him.

Although Mina didn't seem to care much for Gauvain's manners, Yaroslava didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, she just leaned back in her chair and resumed her own meal, occasionally feeding Shade several mouthfuls.

The Ebonguard looked over at Mina. "Well, her kind of cat is actually from Kemhet, but they've got a lot of them in the more southern regions of the Empire, too. I adopted her as a kitten, got her from a town called Redfield. It'd just had this big undead cataclysm because of a bunch of crazy Hidden, and once it was all over, I found a little kitten dumped in the street. So..." he shrugged. "I adopted her."

As impossible as it might seem, Sarael's already-cheery expression brightened significantly at Jane's show of acceptance.

"She likes you. She's pretty good about being unobtrusive, at least most of the time. She was in a saddlebag all the way up here, so she's calm when she wants to be. Loyal, too."

She couldn't help but giggle a bit at the mental image of Jane's head poking out of a saddlebag that Ben's statement conjured, though she did her best to stifle it so as not to startle the cat.

"She must be, if she follows you around hunting mages" she remarked. "Hmm... maybe you should get a tiny suit of void-iron mail made for her, so she'd be safe while investigating magical areas" she suggested —not realizing that the other animal tagging along with the expedition had exactly that. "It would be terrible if anything happened to her!"

"Hope nobody around here is allergic to cats."

"Yeah, it would be awful for anyone to not be able to enjoy the company of this little darling!" she agreed, completely earnest, shifting her hand a bit to give some attention to the base of Jane's other ear.

"What a lovely little thing! How'd you come across her?"

"Well, her kind of cat is actually from Kemhet, but they've got a lot of them in the more southern regions of the Empire, too. I adopted her as a kitten, got her from a town called Redfield. It'd just had this big undead cataclysm because of a bunch of crazy Hidden, and once it was all over, I found a little kitten dumped in the street. So... I adopted her."

"Aw, that's so sweet!" Sarael commented. "So that's why you're so brave, huh?" she continued, now talking to the cat —whose esteem in her eyes, already high, had just skyrocketed. "You already survived a whole undead cataclysm when you were only a little-bitty kit! I guess nothing else just seems scary after that, eh?" she cooed, bringing her other hand over so she could scratch behind both of Jane's ears at once —to all the world oblivious of the other two people at the table.

Stevan offered a smile, drinking from his own tankard. After a moment, he said, "I don't mean any disrespect - just the opposite, actually - but I'm surprised to see an Inquisitor-General in the field. I've worked alongside Karl Metus, but I've never met any other Generals very eager to get back into the field. Any particular reason, or...?" He shrugged. "Did this mission just seem too important to leave to Inquisitors and Ebonguards?"

Tobias hummed in thought for a while, his hand absently scratching the scar where his right ear should be. "While indeed it is a most serious matter that I personally believe deserves all my attention, I'll admit that I've grown restless in Karak du Vide. I'm an old man who don't feel old and I wanted back into the field one last time before my age caught up with me."

Tobias turned his eyes to the Captain and briefly examined the scar on his throat. He discarded the idea of asking about it, himself being irritated by similar questions about his ear. Instead he choose a different topic. "What do you fear, Captain? My apologies if it's seems a bit sudden, It's just that I myself fear that inevitable day in the future when I wake up feeling as old as I know I am. So how about it Stevan? Quid pro quo?"

"I never realized humble monks were paid so handsomely. I apologize. It's been a long day."

"It has been for all of us," Malvolio concerned "not in the least because of this fog, and the importance of finding this Letom person...or thing."

Suddenly, he remembered his own hunger, and, drawing out his purse, the Templar purchased a meal for himself, consisting of some bread, cheese, some sort of spiced chicken, and a mug of ale. After receiving his food, Malvolio listened to Cathas' answer to the older Venator's question before he asked her "Tell me, do my scars...unnerve you? They seemed to bother you earlier."

"I never realized humble monks were paid so handsomely." Hadrian commented as Irena paid for her frugal meal, causing her to color heavily. She turned to explain why, but he apologized first. "It's been a long day."

"It has been for all of us," Malvolio concurred, "not in the least because of this fog, and the importance of finding this Letom person...or thing."

Cathas nodded meekly in agreement. “It’s quite alright.” She offered to Hadrian. “Rather than spend what I’m given on arms and armor, I keep it on-hand to help those less fortunate than I.” The monk explained, bowing her head slightly.

"I don't believe I caught your name. I'm Venator Holt. Hadrian Holt. And tell me," he added. "You seem like a sharp young woman, you could have easily been a scholar or an esteemed monk anywhere. Why join the Knights Templar?"

“I’m Irena Cathas.” She introduced herself in turn. “And… well… my parents were Knights Templar. I didn’t see much point in going elsewhere to do what I could do with the Templars.” Irena admitted… though that wasn’t quite the whole truth. She knew no one would appreciate her fascination with demons.

Before she could add anything else, though, the armored Templar sat beside her and ordered a more luxurious meal, which Cathas struggled not to judge. "Tell me, do my scars...unnerve you? They seemed to bother you earlier."

Irena blinked. “Oh, no, not… really.” She said, a tad uncertainly. “I’m… more curious, honestly.” The monk admitted, starting to dig into her meal. Unfortunately, she was having trouble phrasing her next question politely, and before she knew it she blurted the answer out.

“How did you let a demon get that close to your head?”

-----

"Oh. Well, I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation about who's is larger... I just realized that I never met you two, and I think I could get to know you better." The Channeler said, seeming to direct her last few words at Tibur somewhat pointedly. She smiled as innocently as possible, though, making Mettius frown within the safety of his greathelm.

“We weren’t-” He began to explain, but Lucy grabbed his right hand with hers, and gave it a firm shake. If she did anything else, Tibur couldn’t feel it through his armor, for starters, much less see it as he tried to form conversation with his stubbornly unresponsive mouth.

Tibur looked at her rather stupidly for a moment, processing her request, which giving Evan ample time to make things infinitely worse. As he laughed, Mettius swore he tried to let out a blast of magic, but being fully encased in void iron plate dissipated it before it could even be noticeable.

"I think that you've scared him with that demand for stew!" He cut in, causing Mettius’ hand to close into a tight fist, the plates of his gauntlet slowly grinding together. Dakari even had the guts to step in between them and bow to the damned channeler! "Dakari Ebonstone at your service, but you can call me Evan."

Oh yes, ‘but you can call me Evan’. Tibur thought, wishing he could freeze the man solid where he stood. I’ll show you…

“I’ll get the stew.” He said quietly, clearly seething as he stalked off, pulling a couple coins out of a pouch on his side. I need to step outside and let some of my Condition out soon...

Malvolio sat quietly, and took a bite from his peice of bread and swallowed it before replying:

"It happened a while ago, before you joined the Templars: I was on a mission with another Templar, a Woman who I was...close to. We were supposed to stop some cultists from sumoning a demon, and, long story short, the Demon killed the cultists and my partner, wounded my face, and got away."

He was quiet for a moment before he said "It's been so long that the Templary has assumed that it's dead and have given up searching for it, but I haven't."

He then saw the look on the recorder's face and then stopped, and said "I'm sorry if I've unnerved you, Irena, and I haven't even introduced myself."

Malvolio extended his hand and said "I'm Malvolio Boriga."

---

Evan saw the other Inquisitor's hand tighten in anger and immediately regreted his choice of words.

He raised his hands in a placating jesture and said "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it seem that I wanted your friends attention, I'm just introducing myself to both of you. If I'm bothering you, then I can leave."

However, Tiber had left long before he had even started speaking.

The Inquisitor rubbed his head in his normal mode of expressing his frustration and said to Lucy "Blast it, I'm sorry I did that. It's just that...I'm not one for making friends easily..."

"She must be, if she follows you around hunting mages" she remarked. "Hmm... maybe you should get a tiny suit of void-iron mail made for her, so she'd be safe while investigating magical areas" she suggested —not realizing that the other animal tagging along with the expedition had exactly that. "It would be terrible if anything happened to her!"

"I put in a request, but I got laughed out of the room," Ben replied without a hint of shame. "A lot of Inquisitors have sticks up their asses," he added in a mutter before finishing, "Anyway, she's been fine so far, thankfully."

After Ben explained where Jane came from, Sarael mostly devolved into only speaking to the cat.

"Aw, that's so sweet!" Sarael commented. "So that's why you're so brave, huh?" she continued, now talking to the cat —whose esteem in her eyes, already high, had just skyrocketed. "You already survived a whole undead cataclysm when you were only a little-bitty kit! I guess nothing else just seems scary after that, eh?" she cooed, bringing her other hand over so she could scratch behind both of Jane's ears at once —to all the world oblivious of the other two people at the table.

Jane, of course, had no comments to make, though she was massively enjoying all the attention. She purred even louder, closing her eyes and practically laying her head in Sarael's hands from all the incredible scratching.

Ben, meanwhile, had turned his attention to the others in the room. There were enough conversations going on that it was hard to focus on just one, but he listened anyway.

---

Tobias hummed in thought for a while, his hand absently scratching the scar where his right ear should be. "While indeed it is a most serious matter that I personally believe deserves all my attention, I'll admit that I've grown restless in Karak du Vide. I'm an old man who don't feel old and I wanted back into the field one last time before my age caught up with me."

Stevan nodded; he could understand that.

"What do you fear, Captain? My apologies if it's seems a bit sudden, It's just that I myself fear that inevitable day in the future when I wake up feeling as old as I know I am. So how about it Stevan? Quid pro quo?"

The Captain couldn't help but smile in wry amusement as he replied, "I don't usually admit to having any fears. Courage isn't the lack of fear - it's just knowing not to give into it. I fear a lot of things, I just don't act on it."

He paused before he added slowly, "But I fear dong the wrong thing. Making the wrong choice. We all make choices to protect the people who need it... I'm afraid that, one day, I'll make a choice so wrong that others will have to suffer for it."

Lucy wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't surprising that Mettius was a bit shocked at her...abruptness. She suddenly wished she could try the whole thing again, NOT interrupting a gentleman's conversation and NOT pushing herself so rapidly.

"I think that you've scared him with that demand for stew! Dakari Ebonstone at your service, but you can call me Evan." Lucy looked over and smiled, calmed slightly that she at least got some respect, despite her immaturity. "Pleased to meet you, Evan!" She said, bowing back.

"I'm sorry," Evan started, holding his hands up chest-high, "I didn't mean to make it seem that I wanted your friends attention, I'm just introducing myself to both of you. If I'm bothering you, then I can leave."

Lucy reached out slightly, holding Evan in place telepathically. "Oh, no, you don't--"

"No-- wait..." But he was long gone. Lucy sighed. Why can't I be more tactful at this? Evan spoke over her sagged shoulder.

"Blast it," Said Evan, who also seemed regretful, "I'm sorry I did that. It's just that...I'm not one for making friends easily..."

"I know how you feel." Lucy grimaced. She turned around. "N-not that it's your fault, I mean, it was clearly mine, I... Well... Ugh!" She slammed a fist on a nearby table. Confirming her personality, she hadn't considered the pain that came from said action. "ow...." She clutched her sore hand, looking up at the dark-skinned Ebonguard. "I... *sigh* I'm sorry Evan. It's just... It's hard to make friends in the Inquisition. Especially when you're the only one still spunky and un-haunted with memories, you know?"

As Ben sat there listening, he couldn't help but overhear the slight conflict going on between some of the Inquisitors...

"...It's hard to make friends in the Inquisition. Especially when you're the only one still spunky and un-haunted with memories, you know?"

"Hey, I'm not grim," Ben put in. "I'm not gonna pretend I'm not haunted with memories, but I don't go around parading my scars to people and asking how they make them feel." Sure, it was a Templar who did that this time, but still...

Yaroslava frowned and stood, sauntering on over to Ben and delivering him a decent smack on the back of the skull. "Don't try to start something," she hissed.

Mettius didn’t even see Evan raising his hands as he headed off, and his focus on getting some damn soup to appease a possible roommate kept him from hearing the man’s apology. To help in that regard, he’d begun grumbling angrily to himself, stalking right up to the bar in his full void iron plate. Fishing some coin out, he motioned the bartender over and - still rather grumpy from his attempts to interact with Lucy and Evan’s attempts to ruin them - stiffly asked for a quality bowl of soup.

As soon as he could, he began walking back towards the dark-skinned Ebonguard and channeler, frowning a little as he heard them talking. "I know how you feel." Lucy grimaced. She turned around to face Evan. "N-not that it's your fault, I mean, it was clearly mine, I... Well... Ugh!" She slammed a fist on a nearby table, causing Mettius to wince slightly. "ow...." She clutched her sore hand, looking up at the other Evan. "I... *sigh* I'm sorry Evan. It's just... It's hard to make friends in the Inquisition. Especially when you're the only one still spunky and un-haunted with memories, you know?"

Someone else commented about that in a corner, and was promptly smacked. Tibur didn't spare them a glance, though.

“You’re not the only one.” Mettius said, looming up behind Lucy. However, he held out the bowl of soup. “...As you asked.” He added, still with a stiff tone in his voice.

"Hey, I'm not grim," Lucy heard Ben from the corner, and she turned to look, shocked and embarrassed she had made a scene. "I'm not gonna pretend I'm not haunted with memories, but I don't go around parading my scars to people and asking how they make them feel." Lucy was about to apologize, but couldn't think of the words to say before Sturm, another Ebonguard, promptly smacked him upside the head.

At that point, shame convinced her that it was entirely her fault. "Thanks... sorry Ben." she said quietly, feeling as terrible as ever.

“You’re not the only one.” Lucy heard a voice from behind her. As she was turning around, she nearly smacked into a bowl of stew. “...As you asked.” She stared in awe at the fact he had presented her with food, despite her being a total and complete... for lack of a better word, moron. She reached out and took the bowl from his hands. She looked around, taking in how many people had witnessed the accidental scene she had caused.

She blushed, looking down. "Thanks, Mettius. I'll pay you back." She sat the bowl down on a nearby empty table, pulled her hood up, and sat down.Maybe tonight just wasn't the night to be making friends. Perhaps it was just the wrong time of the month, and she didn't know it yet. But most likely, she was hungry, tired, and lonely. She stirred her food, and took a large bite. The stirring pot of negativity within her may have been upsetting, but it was a lack of food that kept her constitution low enough that she didn't have enough energy to cry. Or maybe she was just tougher than she thought. She heaved a broken sigh, a part of her wishing somebody would talk her through it, and the other part hoping nobody came at all.

At that point, shame convinced her that it was entirely her fault. "Thanks... sorry Ben." she said quietly, feeling as terrible as ever.

"Sorry for what?" Ben asked. If he was bothered at all by Yaroslava's contempt, he didn't seem to show it.

And so Lucy took her bowl of stew and went and sat in a corner. Ben frowned and glanced at Sarael. She was so absorbed with Jane that she didn't even seem to notice anything, but he spoke to her, anyway.

"Excuse me for a bit," he told her before he stood and strode on over to Lucy. Whether she liked it or not, now she had a devastatingly handsome, incredibly tall Inquisitor guy sit down across from her.